by Skylar Finn
“Who cares,” he slurred. “You should just get a profile on Bumble. Tell Peter you want to keep things open until he’s ready to take you seriously.”
“I thought you said he was honest?” I said, startled.
“Honestly inattentive,” said Cameron. “That’s great that he’s trying to get ahead at work and all, but he has to balance the two. Missing hearts, or angry girlfriends? He should consider the potential long-term ramifications that will directly affect him. Does he think he’s going to single-handedly solve the crime himself?”
“Probably,” I said, thinking of Peter’s tenacious attitude when it came to uncovering the truth. A loud bong from the corner caused me to jump, nearly overturning the bottle.
“Careful!” exclaimed Cameron. “That’s liquid gold.”
“What is that sound?” The noise repeated, over and over.
“It’s that damn clock I got at the estate sale.” Cameron sighed. “Beautiful in theory, a nightmare in practice. Fortunately, it only chimes at midnight.”
“Midnight?” I rubbed a hand over my face. “How long have I been here?”
“Long enough to forget,” said Cameron dramatically. “Which is just the right amount of time.”
The clock chimed its twelfth and final chime and I got to my feet, wincing at the pins-and-needles sensation. “I should go. I don’t even remember the last time I slept at my own place.” The thought of the dark, empty space was less than inviting. It never used to bother me before.
I squinted. The clock face was shining, so much so that it seemed to emit an unholy glow. “Cameron, what is that? Do you see that?”
Cameron stood up and drunkenly regarded the clock. “Oh yeah, that. It does that, too. Which I have to say, I find especially strange.”
As I watched, the glow became brighter and brighter. It was identical to the light that Tamsin and I had seen from the street. I approached it and ran my hands over the sides. It felt normal to the touch. Other than the strange glow, it didn’t appear to be doing much of anything. “It’s done this before?”
“Only at midnight, when it chimes. I’ve seen it twice since I got it; I’m not usually in the shop this late.”
I studied the light, fascinated. It was as if a distant sun shone from the other side of the clock’s face. I placed my hand over the face of the clock. It was warm. “But why?” I asked.
He bit his lip, uncertain. “I don’t know, I guess I just figured that old things do odd things? I didn’t really consider it. To be honest, I may have been drinking the other times as well. Those evil blogs were just been tearing me up.”
I was still watching the clock, my hand on its face. I couldn’t turn away. It was beautiful. I saw now why Tamsin said it was magic. It wasn’t the way it looked, but the way that it felt.
“Can we go outside?” Cameron said nervously behind me. “I have to say, it’s kind of freaking me out.”
“Sure.” I took my hand away, and the feeling of magic faded. Was this the power that my family had sensed? If so, why was it contained in an old clock? I thought back to the estate sale, to Suki and the woman I saw on the lawn who stared at the sun. Who were they?
Cameron hurriedly unlocked the front door, eager to get away from the strange light that now enveloped the store. He locked it behind me. He was huddled over the door and didn’t see what I saw when I stepped through the door.
“Cameron,” I said, and stopped. The sight defied words.
“What is it?” He straightened up as he went to put the keys into his pocket. Instead, he dropped them to the ground with a clatter. “What—what is this?”
All around us were the usual signs of life: the neon signs of bars lit up, the late-night traffic in the intersection. A few people on the sidewalks and a couple crossing the street. But none of them actually moved. It was as if a giant unseen hand had pulled back reality and pushed pause. Everyone and everything was frozen in place.
14
The Cat Came Back
“What’s going on?” Cameron sounded scared. He sounded the way that I felt.
“I’m not sure,” I said, slowly turning in a circle. “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”
“Who has?” His tone bordered on the hysterical. “Do you think there was something in the wine?”
I shook my head. “I think there was something in the clock.”
I moved up the street cautiously, studying our surroundings. Cameron scurried up the street with me, surveying the scene with slack-jawed horror. There was a couple emerging from the bar. The man had his hands raised in supplication; the woman was crying, tears frozen on her cheeks. I shuddered and kept walking. A woman in active wear with a leash in her hand paused in the middle of the intersection, her dog jauntily skipping ahead of her, frozen mid-stroll. The light was red, and the inhabitants of the few cars were caught singing, smoking, or cursing into their phones.
Cameron raised a hand, stopping me. “Do you think this is like, a shared hallucination?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “I don’t.” I debated how much to say. Now didn’t seem like the time to explain there was magic in the world and I was part of it, not in the middle of all this. I met Cameron when I first learned I was a witch and he was unwittingly working for one. He spent most of that time possessed by her demon familiar until he was eventually exorcised, so he had no memory of the magic that took place. He just assumed we met on the job and I just sort of left it that way.
“What if this is permanent?” He looked at me, wide-eyed. “What if we just have to live out our lives with everybody frozen?”
“I don’t think it’s that, either.” I bit my lip. “Didn’t you say this happened before?”
“The light? And the clock? Twice, that I know of. But I didn’t go outside either time.”
“Tamsin and I saw it once,” I said. “But we didn’t see the world freeze. I think we got there right when it was ending. The light was gone by the time we got in the shop.”
“What does that clock have to do with this?” he said. “You said you thought it was the clock?”
I thought of the estate sale again. The mysterious fountain, all the clocks, the strange old woman and her beautiful daughter. There was magic there, I knew that now. But what kind?
Movement out of the corner of my eye caused me to glance up the block. It was then that I saw it: a figure shrouded in black. I noticed it because it was the only thing on the entire street, besides Cameron and myself, that was still moving.
“Cameron!” I grabbed his sleeve. “Look!”
I heard his sharp intake of breath. “What is that?” he hissed.
“It could be whatever’s causing this,” I said. As we watched, the figure glided across the intersection, past the woman with the dog. It disappeared around the corner. “We have to follow them,” I said.
“Are you crazy!” Cameron exclaimed. “I’m not chasing that thing, whatever it is, down the street to my certain doom and death! What are you thinking?”
I was already running down the street. Cameron, true friend that he was, followed me, all the while stating what a terrible idea it was.
“It’s clearly some sort of Stephen King time monster that’s going to eat us, and it will be all your fault for doing the one thing that people in every single horror movie never should ever do, which is investigate the source of the evil taking place—”
“Quiet,” I said, peering around the building at the end of the block where the figure had disappeared. I looked around, puzzled, then stepped out behind it onto the sidewalk.
“Sam! Get back here!” Cameron skidded to a stop beside me. He looked around, equally confused. “Where’d they go?”
I sighed, frustrated. “They’re gone, I think.”
Cameron sighed too, but his was relieved. “Thank goodness for that. What are you thinking, playing Law and Order SVU in the streets in the middle of the night, chasing after that ghoul?”
“I thought they could tel
l us what was going on,” I said, looking down the darkened, still street as if the figure might reappear and explain.
“Or freeze us like the evil queen in Narnia, along with all her other subjects,” he groused.
High above us, the yellow face of the City Hall clock tower glowed, the hands at midnight. It chimed methodically, and all around us, time resumed like a brook rushing down the river. The man behind the counter in the late-night cheesesteak store resumed handing a sandwich over the counter to a drunk couple. Cars whizzed past us in the road.
“Good thing we weren’t in the street,” said Cameron, watching time resume from the safety of the sidewalk.
“It’s that clock, I know it.” I turned to Cameron. “Could you take me back to the place you got it tomorrow?”
“That creepy old mansion in Villanova?” Cameron looked surprised. “You think they have anything to do with this?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But if they sold you the clock, they might know what it does and how it works. I don’t necessarily think they’ll be willing to answer my questions, but I’m sure I can at least tell if they’re lying.” I thought of how I could look into their minds and try to discern the truth.
“When did you get on this private investigator tip?” Cameron asked me as we made our way back to the shop. “I know you’ve been bored looking for a new line of employment, but I didn’t know you were planning on becoming an amateur sleuth.”
“I wasn’t,” I said honestly. “It just sort of happened.”
I’d just gotten a Lyft from the shop when I got a text from Peter: I know it’s late, but can you come by? Ignore this if you’re sleeping. I mean, obviously, if you’re sleeping, you will regardless, but I just mean, don’t worry about it if you’re already in bed.
I smiled in spite of the strange events of the evening now weighing heavily on my mind. It was a typical Peter text: stream-of-consciousness and grammatically correct. Peter frowned upon my use of emojis and acronyms. I argued that citing a text in APA format was a ludicrous waste of time.
I updated the address for the Lyft driver and remembered what I’d seen that afternoon. What if he wanted to break up with me for Amelia? I batted the thought away, remembering what he said. Why say that just to get rid of me later on? I knew Lindy was a dangerous fraud; obviously, she’d been manipulating me. It was all some terrible coincidence. Wasn’t it?
I pretended I mostly reassured myself by the time I got to Peter’s block, but by the time I got in the elevator, I was shaking. Peter left the door unlocked for me, which I appreciated but wished he wouldn’t given all the weird things that were going on and the dangerous people in the world.
I went into the living room. Peter was sitting on the couch, staring out the window, zoned out, a sweating bottle of beer untouched beside him on the end table.
“Peter?” I said uncertainly.
He looked up and smiled. Relief washed over me, and I went over to sit next to him. “Are you okay?”
He shook his head. “I’ll tell you in a minute. But first, I want to address what you saw today. Do you believe me, or are you still upset?”
“I believe you,” I said. I didn’t, not entirely. But I wanted to, which would just have to do for now.
“Okay.” He peeled the label off the bottle, a nervous habit of his. “Well, I know your lease is ending soon, and I just wanted you to know that if you want to move in here, with me…you should, you know. Consider it an option.”
“Really?” I tried to keep the shock out of my voice. It was an obvious solution; I practically lived there, anyway. I just couldn’t keep the thought at bay that this never would have come up in my previous relationship, who would have suggested I live in my car (assuming I had one) rather than move in with him.
“I know you’re still apprehensive, based on your previous…situation, and I understand that.” Peter didn’t like to mention Les by name. He said it felt like invoking a curse. “So if you want to take some time to think it over, I completely understand. I won’t take it personally.” He paused, as if debating whether to say any more. “But it would make me feel better.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” I asked, confused. “Why would it make you feel better?”
“I wasn’t planning to tell you this at the same time I asked you to move in because it felt like two separate things that shouldn’t go together,” he explained. “But I can’t not tell you, either. I just don’t want you to think this is some sort of scare tactic to get you to give up your place and do what I want.”
“Can’t tell me what? What’s not a scare tactic?” I was growing alarmed.
“Another girl has gone missing,” he said. “And another heart has been found.”
“Tamsin!” I reached for my phone. When was the last time I’d spoken to her? I hadn’t been able to get ahold of her all day.
Peter placed a hand gently over mine. “It’s not Tamsin,” he said firmly. “It happened while the both of you were at home in Mount Hazel. But it is someone she knows. One of her classmates, a girl by the name of Bea Wilson.” I flashed back to the class Tamsin dragged me to, the girl in the beret throwing daggers at Tamsin with her eyes.
“A girl from Tamsin’s school went missing?” I thought of how close the culprit was. That meant Tamsin was in danger, right now. I jumped up. “I have to find her! I haven’t been able to get in touch with her for hours.”
“And I’ll go with you,” said Peter, getting to his feet. “But Sam, it’s not just Tamsin who’s in danger. Whoever is doing this is very nearby, and that means you’re in danger, too. Even if you don’t want to live here, I’d like it if you would stay here until this person is caught. I know it’s stupid, but the idea of you alone in that house, going back there by yourself every night—” He stopped.
I would have been moved by Peter’s obvious fear that something terrible might happen to me; should have been alarmed that something bad might happen to me, myself, but I was too scared about Tamsin to register anything but my immediate fear.
“I understand,” I said. “But we have to go.”
I rushed up the stairs to the third floor and banged on Tamsin’s door. I thought her high-as-a-kite roommate might answer again with Tamsin unaccounted for, but she opened the door right away.
“Sam, what is it?” She looked bewildered. Her hair was disheveled and she had a mask on. Green paste coated her cheeks and forehead and I thought, irrelevantly, how much she looked like a Halloween costume. A parody of herself.
I threw my arms around her. “You’re okay!” I cried with relief.
“Um, yeah,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“A girl went missing from your school,” I said. “Your enemy, Bea. Another heart has been found, and they think there’s a connection. I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”
Beneath her mask, Tamsin blanched. “Do they think I did it?”
“No, of course not,” I said impatiently. “But don’t you see? You could be next. Where were you, anyway? I thought you were asleep, but when Peter told me about Bea, I was worried sick.”
Tamsin sank slowly into the chair at her desk. I came into her room and closed the door. Her roommate was nowhere to be seen.
“I was asleep,” she said. “My phone was dead and I didn’t bother to charge it before I passed out when we got back.”
I studied her. She looked lost and a little distant, but it could have just been because she was thinking of Bea. I couldn’t read her mind, because she would sense me there, trying to determine if she was lying. I would just have to take her word for it.
For now.
“Peter’s waiting downstairs,” I said. “Do you want to come with us?”
“It’s okay, Sam. I’ll put a protection spell around the window and the door after you leave. No one will be able to get in and out but my roommate.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you sure you can trust her?”
Tamsin laughed. “Sam, I am one hundred p
ercent sure that girl is not capable of murder. Like, a hundred and ten percent. All she does is get high and sculpt things and eat all of my Cheetos.”
“Okay. I guess. Text me in the morning so I know you’re safe.”
“I will.” Tamsin hugged me before I left, getting a little bit of green paste on my shoulder. “It will be okay. I’m really sad about Bea, but we’ll find out what’s happening. Maybe together, we can stop it.”
I was moved by Tamsin’s optimism, but it was hard to estimate the scope of what we were against. Together, Tamsin and I were two powerful witches. Still, we couldn’t be sure what--or who--was behind the disappearances.
And why hearts? It didn’t make any sense.
I asked Peter to stop by my place so I could get some of my things. He waited in the driveway with the engine running.
“If you’re not back in five minutes, I’m coming in after you,” he said.
I rushed around my room, throwing random clothes in a bag. I’d just zipped it up when I saw it. Glowing eyes in my closet, fixed and riveted on me. I almost screamed, but the shout died in my throat.
The cat from Mount Hazel stalked out of the closet, surveying me matter-of-factly. He stopped and sat in front of me, tail curled around his feet.
“Where did you come from?” I asked, as if he could answer me. “How did you get here?”
The cat said nothing, licking his paw and wiping it behind his ear. He stopped and stared over my shoulder, his yellow-golden eyes wide in the dim room, pupils fully dilated. With a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, I slowly turned to look behind me.
Seated in the wingback chair in the corner of my bedroom, wearing her black beret and looking positively livid, was Bea Wilson.
15
Commitment Phobia
I should say here that the sight of Bea Wilson, who was very likely recently deceased, would have been a frightening sight prior to my first visit to Mount Hazel: whereupon I discovered that seeing ghosts was a caveat of my inherited powers—one more responsibility-loves-misery scenario, in addition to seeing human hearts in the ice box.
